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Grak Yarn
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Posted - 2008.04.23 23:47:00 -
[1]
The station hummed. There was the all encompassing ever-present rumble of the reactors in the distance, the far away sound of ships coming and going from the docking ports, and the closer sound of the habitats for the people who lived on board the station. Grak Yarn, Vherokior pod-pilot, listened to the sounds of the living breathing station, thanking the spirits that he could live in times such as these. He took a turn off the main hall, leaving the groups of students and professors and everyone else behind as he plunged into the bowels of the station. Passing through hissing hallways, blinking consoles, rooms with the occasional mechanic, he came upon his destination. With a quick glance around to make sure no one was coming, he slipped into the small utility closet.
Inside the closet, it was damp and musty. He really thought they should clean it up but they never did. With flick of his tongue the small lamp built into his filter turned on, casting light into the dark room. He panned the thin beam of light around till he saw the box marked ôMedical Suppliesö, and kicked it. There was a soft hiss from the back of the wall and the sudden swish of hydraulics as a door slid open, revealing a ten by ten room, and three figures. A lean, scarred faced Krusual flanked by a pair of Brutor giants, one in a pair of dark glasses and both dressed in heavy trenchcoats. The standard dealer and his flunkies.
ôDo you have the goods?ö Grak said, stepping into the room and looking around. No other exits except for the one he had come from.
ôYes, but thereÆs been a slight change of policyàyou see, the Serpentis no longer have sway over me.ö the Krusual said, flicking a hand. The Brutor on the left in the dark sunglasses produced a room sweeper solid-ammunition gun. ôYou will give us what you have on hand, and you will leave, no trouble. Being a capsuleers wont help you here.ö
Grak blinked a bit, staring at the weapon being pointed at him and the two held negligently in the other menÆs hands. He raises his hands slowly and sighed æGuess you got meö he said, whispering something into his filter. A hiss filled the air and he jerked his body hard to the left, falling to the ground as the man with the shotgun began to choke and fired. The ground near his hand pinged as the ammo bounced off it, and the other two men didnÆt even get to fire a shot as they fell to the ground, clutching their throats.
He gave a very small sigh, pulling the shotgun from the limp Brutor and hitting each one once on the head with it before collecting the other guns as well. He collected the bag of X-instinct tabs the Krusual had in his pocket and slipped them into his own before moving out, giving the switch a kick and then ripping the mechanism out. As he walked away, he wondered how much he could get for an ôantiqueö shotgun and a pair of pistols.
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Silver Night
Caldari
Naqam
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Posted - 2008.04.24 05:20:00 -
[2]
Interesting use of the face mask thing 
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GLS Mr. State
Caldari Patriot.
Sansha's Nation Supporter
Murderer of (his own) Frigates.
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Shern
Minmatar
Delictum 23216
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Posted - 2008.04.24 06:18:00 -
[3]
Has to be a practical reason why some matari wear one ! |
Nomakai Delateriel
Amarr
Viziam
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Posted - 2008.04.24 07:19:00 -
[4]
 Originally by: Shern
Has to be a practical reason why some matari wear one !
Filtering away Fedo stink strikes me as reason enough.
______________________________________________
-You can never earn my respect, only lose it. It's given freely, and only grudgingly retracted when necessary. |
Grak Yarn
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Posted - 2008.04.25 14:34:00 -
[5]
Grak smiled behind his filter as he bargained with the Brutor, pointing out the intricate work on the shotgun. The market hummed around him, people wheeling and making deals with each other in Hab Section E/3 of the station. But right now his mind was focused on the bargaining. Two days had passed since he had received the shotgun and the pair of pistols, and he expected to make a good bit of money off the weapon. Turning it into an ôantiqueö hadnÆt taken much effort, just a bit of gilding and the right customer. He pointed out, on the practical side, the over-under barrel design, the fact that it could use a drum clip or single shells, and the sawn off end for better use in shipboard environments. He also spun a little tale about it having been the personal weapon of an Amarr captain, won off his dead corpse during the Revolution. The sale was being finalized just as he saw the Krusual over the mans shoulder. Without a second though the small Vherokior began to run, pushing through the crowd. A shout behind him from the Krusual and then more shouting as the crowd was pushed through, and he could see more men moving to his left and right.
He pushed past another batch of mingling people and into a abandoned manufacturing center labeled 51, and turned on his filters short range communications device with a twist of a knob on the side. He spoke into it as he closed the warehouse door and slammed a heavy bolt into place and activated the electronic lock. It probably wouldnÆt stop them, but it might slow them down.
ôThis is Grak Yarn, IÆm being pursued by multiple armed men, Hab Section E/3,ö he dashed around a corner, into the office area of the factory. He tried various doors, moving on when they were locked and finally slipping into an office ôManufacturing center 51! Someone he-ö
He shut his mouth as he heard the distant sound of the warehouse door opening, moving into the corner and pulling shells out of his pocket, loading the long arm and praying to his ancestors in his head. He began to slot the shells into the shotgun, controlling his shaking hands. He could hear them coming, moving through the factory, people shouting to each other as they searched for him. He clicked off the safety of the weapon and cowered, waiting. |
Jean Controleur
Gallente
Yurai-Tenshin Zaibatsu
Celestial Imperative
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Posted - 2008.04.25 23:57:00 -
[6]
Edited by: Jean Controleur on 25/04/2008 23:57:27
Very nice writing mate, very nice. |
Grak Yarn
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Posted - 2008.04.25 23:58:00 -
[7]
Grak waited in the shadows, trying to calm himself down. His message HAD to have gotten out. Someone was coming. The sec teams would be coming in any secondà
But not before they found him. He heard them coming down the hall, kicking open doors. Oneàno, two. Two separate voices, both Brutor, both sounding really ****ed. Probably Glasses and baldy, the two who had been with the guy when he had gassed the lot of them. He made a note to use lethal gas next time. He waited, and continued to pray, bringing the shotgun up to his shoulder and waiting.
The door to the office he was in slammed open with a bang, and what looked like the tip of an assault rifle poked through the door. It swept the area it swept the area it could see and then lowered as the Brutor began to move into the room. Grak thanked whatever ancestor spirits that were listening that these were just thugs and not trained men. The first one covered the wrong side of the room, and as the second one came through Grak pulled the trigger of the weapon in his hand.
What he was expecting was a single shot, taking the first man in the chest, and hopefully enough time to squeeze off another shot. What he wasnÆt expecting was a five shell burst that tore the first mans chest apart and hit the second man in the head, by pure accident. The two bodies crumpled to the ground, the area behind and around them covered in blood and gore. Grak just managed to rip his filter off before retching, dropping the shotgun to the side. IT was then he realized his shoulder really, really, hurt, and he couldnÆt move it. He let out a string of expletives and stumbled to his feet, pulling one of the menÆs sidearmÆs from its holster and running out the door, almost slipping on the mixture of blood and vomit. He could hear shouting and foot falls coming from the way they other men had came, and ran as fast as he could, holding his shoulder carefully. His life was flashing in front of his eyes.
A shot rang out and flew past him, impacting the door at the end of the hall. More shots flew by, and he could recognize the various weapons. Solid slug rounds, big ones, and one laser weapon, the distinctive ***** recognizable over the hammering of the other weapons. He had almost made it to the door when the laser weapons marksman got a good hit. His shoulder exploded in a spray, and Grak felt his whole body get lifted up and thrown, his small frame tumbling through the air. He impacted the door and blacked out for a few seconds. His last thoughts were ôDamn, I wasted four yearsàö
When he opened them again, he expected to be standing with his ancestors. He was not. Instead he was laying on the cool metal of the street outside, and alarms were wailing. Boots pounded past him and he felt himself being picked up bodily by someone with the musculature of a statue. More shots rang in the air, and shouts, and he saw the flashing hazard lights of one of the security teams. The female Brutor dropped him onto the medivacs bed, and the world faded to black, starting at the edges of his visions.
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Grak Yarn
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Posted - 2008.04.26 02:55:00 -
[8]
Edited by: Grak Yarn on 26/04/2008 03:00:04
The surgery had been quick, and it helped that Grak had been knocked out for most of it. The shoulder that had been hit by the laser shot had been replaced, the cybernetics so shiny he could practically smell them. The other harm he found out, had been dislocated by the assault shotguns blast, and they had set it back into place and then shuffled him into the security stations med-area to recuperate, it least until they could figure out whether they should be arresting him or not.
He was sipping on a delicious shake provided by the helpful shift-nurse when a massive Brutor female walked in, holding a data-slate. She was muscular in a way statues tended to be, lean rather then bulging, and it least a foot taller then him. He recognized her as the one who had pulled him out of the line of fire near the warehouse. A surge of gratitude, and then dread passed through him. Had he had any X-instinct on him?
ôMister Grak Yarn, age Twenty Two, Male, Vherokior Tribe, Capsuleer, Divorcedàö she listed as the Vherokior nodded along, confirming it all with the occasional yes. After the formalities were out of the way, she led him to a small room with a table and two chairs. The shoulder that had been dislocated was resting against his chest in a sling, and he sat down gingerly. The doctors said he would be ok to move it in about a day, but not in a full range for it least a week. The woman sat down across from him
ôCigarette, mister Yarn?ö she said, offering him one of the thin sticks. The pod pilot nodded gratefully and accepted it, sticking it into his mouth and digging into his pocket for a lighter. The woman offered her own, and he took a grateful drag.
ôNow mister Yarn, we need to discuss why exactly you had a dozen heavily armed running after youö She gave him a smile, but it didnÆt make him feel any better.
ôOhàwellà,ö he let out a sigh ôBefore I became a pod-pilot, I borrowed some money to help pay my way through school. Iàsort of didnÆt pay it back. They were here to collect.ö
The security officer raised an eyebrow ôA debt collection? Mister Yarn, you might as well just tell me the truth. We have your blood test hereàö
Grak sighed and put his head into his hand, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and holding it ôAlright, alright, alrightà.IÆm addicted to X-instinct, the guy tried to knock me off during a deal, and I got him with some knockout gas. So what, are you going to throw me into prison?ö
ôPerhaps. First, details. We caught twelve Brutor and found two more dead at the scene. Your work too I assume?ö she asked, standing.
ôWell, yeah, but that was personal defense,ö Grak said, sitting back and reinserting the cigarette into his mouth. He paused, blinking several seconds ôWait, you didnÆt catch a Krusual?ö
ôNoàjust Brutor,ö She looked at him ôWhat are you telling me?ö
ôIt was a Krusual, heÆs known as Scars, heÆs the one that set it all up. Everything,ö Grak said, looking at her ôIf heÆs still out their heÆll be after me.ö
The woman thought for a few seconds and then nodded ôAlright Mister Yarn, weÆll cut you a deal. I am authorized to offer you freedom in exchange for helping us catch this Scars character. Also, since youÆre a Capsuleer, a donation to the Security Command of a decent amount. And get yourself clean.ö
Grak chuckled a bit and sat back in his chair, nodding ôCould I take you out for dinner?ö
ôPick me up at seven tomorrow.ö she said, smiling in a way that made Grak smile right back.
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maccrat
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Posted - 2008.04.26 12:37:00 -
[9]
Love theese forums sometime =) keep up the posting and good work
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Grak Yarn
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Posted - 2008.05.27 01:36:00 -
[10]
Grak Yarn stared at the text-only mail he had received. It was short, but pointed.
ôScar has escaped; location unknown. Sorry Yarn.ö
He clicked off terminal and immediately opened up a new message, shooting it off after a few quick words. He grabbed his bag and stuffed what personal items he could into it, pausing only to put on clothes before rushing out the door.
The sting onboard the Tech School Station had gone off without a hitch. They had used him as bait in the market place, and Scar had taken it like a fedo to wastes. He had come at him with another gang of thugs, and the security personnel had arrested Scar and his lackeys. A short bribe later and Grak had piloted himself off the station and set a course for Molden Heath. He had been onboard the station for awhile now and was finally getting comfortable. But Scar had escaped.
Grak practically ran towards the docking bays. He had to get onboard his destroyer and into his pod, heÆd be safe then. Two and Three would be waiting as well, and between them heÆd be fine. Scar wouldnÆt be able to touch him! Unless of course Scar was waiting around the entrance to his docking bay, which he was, and even as Grak tried to skid to a halt, reverse directions, he pulled out what looked like an elongated metal pole and stabbed it into the Vherokior back. Everything turned grey for Grak.
He felt cold metal first. And then hot, sharp pain. He screamed. He felt cloth around his eyes
ôPrison? You thought a prison could hold me?ö snarled a voice with a Krusual accent.
Something snapped. He let out another howl of pain.
ôYou know, I am just disappointed I donÆt have as much time with you as I want. Gotta make things quickàö A fist slammed into the side of his face. Grak spat out a tooth.
ôBut before I finish you off, I think im going to break all your fingers and toesö said Scar near his ear. Grak shook as hard as he could. He couldnÆt move his fingers on his handàthey hurt so much.
Another snap, and Grak began to howl.
Once it was all over, he was almost glad that death was near. All thoughts of tribe and family and anything but release flooded out of his mind. He remembered the video Uiliam Nebel had showed him and wondered if it would be as quick. A single shot to the head from behind.
It was then, over the sound of the whining of a power cell being slotted into a blaster, he heard a faint hissing and smelled burning. Scar must have heard it too, because he murmured ôWhat theàö seconds before an explosion sent Grak flying.
He heard a shout from Scar, the whine of a beam weapon firing, and then he felt himself being freed. The cloth was torn from his eyes and two figures loomed over him. Clad from head to foot in robes of dirt brown, both of them wore a large, full-faced version of his own filter that completely obscured their features. Two and Three, his personal Vherokior bodyguards. Three slung her weapon, a two handed plasma rifle, and lifted up Grak carefully.
The room was dark and sort of covered in brown, and Grak spotted his filter on the lower half of Scar. The upper half of Scar was a few feet away, the bits in between smoldering. He felt himself getting ready to throw up, and Three apparently sensed he was about to, and so moved Grak a bit to allow him to do so without choking himself. Two leaned down and picked up the filter, hooking it on her own belt and signaling for him to move out. Three moved out, pausing only long enough for Two to turn her Incinerator on the room behind, filling it with flame hot enough to vaporize anything on the surface. They moved swiftly down the hall, back towards the docking bay. Grak thanked his ancestors and his guards a thousand times over as he slipped into unconsciousness.
(And that concludes this story arc! Thanks for the time and the pain your brains must feel over my bad grammar/spelling/skillz in general.)
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Vreena
Yurai-Tenshin Zaibatsu
Celestial Imperative
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Posted - 2008.05.31 11:28:00 -
[11]
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The above does not reflect the views and/or opinions of my corporation or alliance...well it could, but let's not be presumptuous, okay? |
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